


I love you, Moritz Stiefel

by definitelynotmoritzstiefel



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: moritz needs a hug and he will get one goddammit!, trigger warning for suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotmoritzstiefel/pseuds/definitelynotmoritzstiefel
Summary: Moritz has a history of panic attacks, and Ilse has a history of somehow knowing exactly what to do when Moritz has one.AU where things go different with Moritz's suicide attempt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
Please read with caution, trigger warning for suicidal thoughts. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!  


Out of all people to call Ilse’s phone in the absolute middle of the night, Moritz was the one who least surprised her, somehow.   
  
Not that she often got calls from Moritz in the middle of the night. He never called, actually, but it was not unlike him to be awake at 2:30 A.M. and they used to be very close in primary school, so hey: not that weird, right? Yet, when she was reaching for her phone, almost muttering to herself “If this is about homework, Moritz, I swear to god –”, she stopped for a second. They really hadn’t spoken in a year or two. Should she pick up? This must be a mistake. A drunken call, a butt dial, maybe. As were all of the calls she got from men.  
  
“Moritz?” Her finger had pressed the button before she properly thought about it.   
“Ilse!” His voice was almost sharp at first, but the vigour behind it quickly died. “You’re awake?”  
“So are you,” she said.

  
There was a silence.

  
“Ritz? It’s really late, are you okay?”

  
She could hear his breath hitch.

  
“I – I’m okay.”

  
For a moment, she could feel irritation well up inside of her. _Then why did you call?_  
But Moritz never called. And more than that, Moritz would never call without a reason.

  
“Are you sure? Ritz?” she added, her voice softer than she imagined it would be.

  
He mumbled something.

  
“Moritz, I didn’t quite catch that, but I’m having a hard time believing you just called me because you missed me.” There was an attempt at a joke somewhere in that sentence, a faked light-heartedness that Ilse herself didn’t even believe. “Moritz?”

  
“Ilse – I – I’m sorry.”

  
She was fully sat upright in bed now, her right foot already dangling of the edge. “Sorry for what, Mo? Where are you?”

  
“I’m sorry– I – I called you – I didn’t know what else –”

  
“Moritz, where are you?” She was standing now. For a moment she considered changing out of her pyjamas; it was cold outside, snowy, and leaving the warmth of her bed sent shivers down her spine.  
But there was a brokenness in Moritz’s voice that urged her to not waste a single second.

  
“I’m at home,” he replied, seeming unsure.   
Ilse froze in the doorway. She held her breath for 3 seconds, maybe more, her hand shakily on the doorknob. She had to ask. It was the one thing on her mind. It was the one thing that mattered in this situation.

  
“Moritz, did you hurt yourself?”

  
His voice was raspy when he answered, though he didn’t quite answer. He sounded small. “C-can you come over?”

  
“Of course, Ritz, of course! I’m – I’m on my way, okay? Just hold on a few more minutes, I’m coming!”   
She was now running down the stairs of her apartment complex, not able to even wait on an elevator, then sprinting through the snow towards her car. Before opening the car door, she stopped again.

  
“I – I’m gonna ask you one more thing, okay?” she said as calmly as she could manage, though she could hear Moritz’s breath squeak a little on the other side. “Do you think I need to call 911? So they can come and... and help?”

“N-no!” he sputtered. “God, I’m so sorry for putting this on you – I’m sorry –”

“I’m coming, Moritz, I am on my way, but I need you to tell me if you hurt yourself.”

  
Quiet.

  
“Moritz, please tell me. I’m coming whatever you say. I’m not angry. I’m coming, I just need to know. Please. I am on my way, I just need to know.”

  
He hiccupped a few times.

  
“Moritz. Did you hurt yourself? In any way.”

  
He paused again, sounding raw when he finally spoke.

  
“N-not yet.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter at last! 
> 
> Still big trigger warning for suicide, so be careful.

The entire way to Moritz’s house, Ilse’s phone was lying on the dashboard.

Should she have hung up? Was that a good idea?

_No. No, it wasn’t._

She pressed down the gas pedal even harder, a little too hard maybe, but she honestly couldn’t care less about getting a speeding ticket right now. The roads were empty and mostly dark and it was only a few more blocks until Moritz’s house and, _fuck_, what if he’d already done – no, no, he wouldn’t do that, right? He knew she was coming. Right? He knew she cared – he – he must know –

That was the house. The terrifying Stiefel household.

She did not even lock her car as she jumped out and practically sprinted towards the door. Ilse wrapped her arms around Moritz as soon as it swung open, quickly, almost possessively, scared that if she let go, he would be gone. Her right hand cradled the back of his head.  
“You’re alright – Thank god, Moritz – You’re okay.”  
She was about to apologize for hugging him so suddenly without asking, but he was hugging her back, and he still smelled exactly like he used to when they still played pirates and when she last saw him, nodding off in class, his head almost on the table, on the last day she spent at those tables before running away. Moritz’s breath was warm and shaky against the nook of her neck. She became aware of another sensation now; warm, salty tears dripping down onto her skin.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, shhh.”  
He let go a little bit, albeit reluctantly, still clinging to Ilse’s arms as he looked at her.  
“Do you want to go inside?” Ilse asked.  
His eyes widened. “I – I – I’m so sorry – but – but –”  
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, you can tell me,” she said, squeezing his arms back. “You can tell me. I’m listening.”  
He gasped, tears still trailing down his cheeks. “I – I d-don’t want to be h-here anymore.”  
Ilse’s stomach turned. “Do you want to come to my place? Do you want to go driving a little?”  
He was holding his breath, his bottom lip trembling as he shakily let go of Ilse’s arms to wrap his arms around himself. He was wearing his usual thin, worn out sweater and pants that were slightly too big.  
“Let’s get you a coat and then we’ll go somewhere else?”  
He let out a shaky breath, for the first time in what felt like forever.  
“Does that sound okay? Let’s get you a jacket, alright?”  
He managed to nod and Ilse took a hold of his arm again, stepping inside beside him. It had been years since she last entered the Stiefel house, but she could clearly remember what it looked like and where the shoes were and the coats. She did not let go of Moritz when she grabbed his shoes, or when she grabbed his oversized winter jacket -

and especially not when she bumped against Moritz while doing so and a gun slipped out of the pocket of his dark pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it so far, please let me know if you did, it warms my heart.
> 
> (I know it's short, more coming super soon)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get kind of personal from here, so beware. I hope you enjoy

Moritz's breath stopped, which turned into sobs again as he looked from the gun on the floor to Ilse’s wide, scared eyes.

  
“I – I – I didn’t think you – I didn’t think you wou-would come.”

  
She bit her lip, now feeling tears sting at the back of her eyes as well, but somehow, she managed to stay calm. “I’m gonna take that, okay?”

  
“No!” he blurted out, and immediately after, he flinched. “No – I’m – I’m sorry, don’t be mad, please – p-please don’t be –”

  
She briefly let go of him and bent down to pick up the gun. The metal was cold against the palm of her hand. “The safety is still on?” She wished that was a statement and not a question.

Moritz shook his head, almost frantic. “I’m so so sorry – Ilse, please don’t – _please_ don’t be angry. _Please_,” he sobbed. 

Ilse doubted that he could keep breathing like this for much longer before passing out. She took a deep breath, looked at the gun and twisted it, hearing the safety click back into place. A wave of adrenaline rushed over her.

  
Moritz gasped for breath still, instinctively grabbing onto the wall behind him for some sort of stability, but Ilse noticed before his legs gave away.  
She carefully led Moritz to the floor, where he sat shaking and rocking and soon he grasped her hands so firmly it almost hurt. His eyes were fixed on the gun that lay in Ilse’s lap and through some kind of strange connection they had always seemed to have, Ilse knew exactly what Moritz meant when he finally managed to rip his eyes away from the gun and focus them on her instead.

  
“You want to hold it?” she whispered, staring at his blue irises. “Just for a bit longer?”

  
He nodded. “’m sorry,” he stuttered.

  
“I understand,” she said calmly and she let go of one of his hands, slowly lifted the gun and closed his fingers around it, without fully letting go.

  
Fully letting go didn’t feel safe yet.

  
Moritz’s tears leaked down onto their hands. Every single sob seemed to tear open Ilse’s heart. How long had he been feeling like this? How long had he been holding that gun for? Was he holding it when he called her?

  
She didn’t know what else she could do in that moment, other than to hold Moritz’s hand and watch her childhood best friend, the boy with the messy hair and the blue eyes and the bruises and the cuts rock back and forth, sobbing, while clasping a gun that he so badly wanted to put against his own temple.

  
_It hurt. It hurt so fucking much._

  
And all she could muster in that moment to calm both Moritz and herself was whispering that it would be okay. That she wasn’t angry. That she loved him.  
That she loved him _so so much_.

  
When the rocking had been reduced to trembling, Ilse let go of Moritz’s hand. He was now holding the gun alone, looking at it with focus, but not with intent.  
Ilse was not scared. She had been, but she was not in that moment, especially not for herself.

  
“Can I touch you?” she whispered, but Moritz did not seem to hear yet. He hadn’t heard most of what she had said for a while now. “Hey, Moritz?”  
He lifted his head.  
“Do you mind if I touch you?”

  
Her mind drifted back to a day in the early Spring when they were 15 and sitting on Ilse’s bed and Moritz had just failed his Latin exam for the umpteenth time that year and his eyes were red from the tears and his cheeks were blue from his father’s reaction.   
She was not sure where this memory came from after being long forgotten at the back of her mind, however, she was sure that she had done this before. Moritz had a history of panic attacks, and Ilse had a history of somehow knowing exactly what to do when Moritz had one.

  
“Moritz, can I?”

  
He lifted his teeth from where they were firmly planted in his bottom lip. He was hoarse from the sobbing, but his voice never lost that soft tone that was so unique to him. “Please,” he whispered.

  
Ilse started carefully rubbing Moritz’s left arm, working her way up to his shoulder, that was so tense that the muscles felt rock hard. Her other hand slowly lifted to Moritz’s face, very cautiously, never leaving Moritz’s field of sight, without making any unexpected movements.

The last thing she wanted to see Moritz do now was flinch.

  
She carefully wiped some of the tears from his face, eventually resting her hand on his right cheek. Moritz was now almost easing into the touch she was giving him, though she could still feel his muscles strain to contain the sobs.

  
“That’s it,” she whispered. “You’re doing incredibly well, Mo. That’s it.”

  
Moritz nodded, his eyes visibly tired from crying and god knows how much time spent without sleep.  
Ilse carefully combed her hand through his unkempt, brown curls and Moritz closed his eyes, breathing in and out more deeply now and clearly focussing very hard on not letting that turn into sobs again. His right hand slipped away from the gun from pure fatigue, and Ilse grabbed it with her left, her right still working on easing Moritz’s shoulder out of the tensed up state it was in.

  
Moritz leaned back against the wall, his head just touching it, and lifted his chin. Echoes of sobs still escaped his mouth as silent tears made their way from his eyes all the way down his neck.

  
“Yes, Mo, that’s it. You’re doing so well. Yes, keep breathing just like that, I’m so fucking proud,” Ilse said, a hint of a smile almost creeping around the corners of her mouth. “Moritz, I am so proud of you.”

  
Moritz lowered his chin, his eyes nearly closing every time he took a deep, forced breath. His other hand let go of the gun as well now, moving towards Ilse’s free hand without thinking.

  
“Fuck,” he breathed. It sounded raw.

  
Ilse’s thumbs rubbed the back of Moritz’s cold, clammy hands. His fingertips still traced the gun lightly.  
“That’s it,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you, Ritz. You’re doing so well.” Still stroking his hands, she added: “Can you hear me?”

  
He swallowed thickly and managed to nod.

  
“Can you look at me? Moritz?”

  
Another nod, followed by a deep breath that quivered just a little too much to be considered calm. Moritz focused his eyes on Ilse’s for what felt like the first time that night. Or at least, it was the first time Ilse looked into Moritz’s eyes and saw a glimpse of _Moritz_ and not just _fear_.

  
“Yes,” Ilse said, with more determination than before now, “yes, Mo, I’m here. You’re doing so well.”

  
His eyes started to drift back down to the gun under his fingertips.

  
“Moritz? Can you focus on me?”

  
He swallowed again, through the tears, and looked back up. “I’m sorry.”

  
“No, that’s alright, you’re doing great.” She hesitated. “Moritz? Hey, yeah, that’s right, look at me.”

  
It had never been this bad. It had never lasted this long. It should have been over by now. Moritz should be breathing by now.

  
“Can you squeeze my hands? Moritz?”

  
His hands trembled an awful lot, but there was a hint of force still there.

  
“That’s it!” she felt almost relieved, but Moritz seemed to be having a great deal of trouble merely focusing his eyes on anything other than the gun.

  
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, forcing out the tears that had been pooling in his eyes while looking down at the pistol, and shook his head. His breath quickened. His muscles tensed.

  
Ilse’s hand moved back up his arm instinctively, taking a hold of his shoulder and squeezing.   
“Hey, hey – Stay with me now. Moritz? Moritz, can you hear me?”  
  
She tried to hide the hint of panic in her voice, but it was becoming near impossible.  
  
“Moritz, hey!” She squeezed his shoulder more strongly, but he did not snap out of it. “Hey...”

  
He had started sobbing again, barely breathing in between the tears.

  
“Moritz, it’s okay,” she whispered and he did seem to hear, but she didn’t know if he believed her. “It’s going to be alright. Whatever it is, we can solve it, okay?”

  
He shook his head. “N-no, we – we c – we _can’t_.”

  
Ilse’s entire body felt numb at this point. She was no nurse like Wendla, but she knew Moritz, and she knew that if Moritz kept panicking like this for much longer, he would be retching over the trashcan sooner than later, which would make him more anxious, which would lead to –

  
“Moritz!” Her tone was resolute, but not angry.  
  
He looked up at once, a high-pitched noise escaping the back of his throat.  
  
“I know I’m asking a lot of you right now, and I’m sorry for that, but I need you to focus on my voice, okay? Look at me.”  
  
He was pale, looking at her in the bleak light of the street lights outside that shined through the window above the door in the hallway. “I’m trying – I’m sorry –”  
  
“I know you’re trying,” Ilse said. “I’m proud of you.”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“Moritz, I _am_.”  
  
He shook his head again, but at least he was listening.

  
Ilse sighed, grabbing both of his hands and squeezing them. “Hey, look at–”

  
“Ilse – I – _I failed_.” 

His tone was almost hesitant, as if he did not believe it was true himself. He immediately ducked his head as a sob shook his shoulders. His eyes were shut tight. 

  
Ilse could feel her heart sink. “Oh – oh, baby...”

  
“I’m s-so fucking s-st-stupid! I’m a f-fucking failure!” 

  
Ilse carefully pulled him closer. He sobbed into Ilse’s sweater and she wrapped her left arm around him.

  
“I’m so sorry, Mo,” she whispered into his hair.   
The gun felt cold through the fabric of her pants. It was pressed in between them now, still so present in that moment.

  
Anyone else would have probably found this a weird thing to kill yourself over, but Ilse had seen Moritz’s bruises enough times to know that this was not actually about grades.

  
She had seen them nough times to feel guilty about not doing anything sooner.

  
“Sshh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” She pressed a soft kiss onto his head. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”   
She knew that for a fact; the driveway had been empty when she came.   
“It’s just me.”  
  
He nodded, grabbing her sweater for some more support, trying to take deep breaths.   
  
“There you go,” she said, “you’re okay.”   
Her chest physically hurt now, as if all of what had just happened just dawned on her.

  
Moritz sat up again after a while, wiping his eyes.   
Still shaking, but not as badly.   
Still hyperventilating, but not as worryingly.

  
“Breathe, Mo, you can do this. I know you can. You have done this before.”

  
Moritz looked at her with a look that could only be described as pure exhaustion. As if his eyes were saying: ‘_Too many times’_.

  
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled for a few seconds, though he hiccupped once in a while, seemingly suppressing tears. His fingers moved from Ilse’s hands towards the gun, picking it up as if it were some expensive, delicate china. He looked at it.

  
Ilse held her breath.   
_Do something! Oh my god, Ilse, goddamnit, say something!_  
“Mo?” Her voice was very soft, but it caught Moritz’s attention.

  
He looked up and sniffed. “Y-yes?”

  
“I want you to know – no – fuck – I _need_ you to know that you are not a failure. You’re anything but that, no matter what anyone has said, okay? Do you hear me?”

  
“Okay,” he mumbled.

  
“They’re all wrong, okay? Your teachers, your – your dad –”

  
Moritz hiccupped and bit his lip.

  
“You were raised in a system that doesn’t want to see you succeed. And that is not your fault.”  
Ilse wiped the tears off his warm cheeks. “You are _not_ stupid. And you are _loved_. Do you understand that?”

  
Moritz swallowed and nodded. She could feel chills on his wrists, where her fingers lay.

  
“You are a joy to this fucked up world, Moritz.”   
There were tears in her eyes at this point.

  
“_Please_ don’t take that away from me. Please. I love you.”

  
He took a deep breath, wiped away his tears, cleared his throat. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath and opened them.  
  
He softly pushed the gun into Ilse’s hands.   
  
“I love you too,” he whispered.

  
He let go.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very late addition, couldn't help myself (very short as well but I'll wrap up soon)  
(also i have this theory that Ilse hates the TV-show Friends with a passion don't @ me)

Ilse closed her fingers around the barrel slowly, then slid the gun away from them over the wooden floor. It slid against one of the legs of the worn-out dresser to their left, where it lay still.

Powerless.

She wrapped Moritz up in a shaky hug and kissed the top of his head again and again, burying her face in his hair. She pulled him close to her, almost certain he could feel her heart hammering in her chest.   
Moritz choked back a sob.   
“Ssshhh, it’s okay,” she whispered.   
“Okay,” he breathed in the nook of her neck.   
“I’m proud of you,” she said. She felt the first tear escape her left eye. She quickly wiped it away and tightened her grip on Moritz.   
She could feel his angular frame loosen up as he leaned into her touch.   
“I’m _so_ proud.”   
  
He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for years.   
  
“It’s okay,” Ilse repeated. Her fingers tangled in his curls. “Ssshh.”   
He nodded.  
She buried her face in his hair one more time. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”   
  
She could feel Moritz trying to collect himself. After a deep breath or two, or maybe three or four, he straightened his back. Ilse let her hand slide from his hair down his neck to his shoulder.   
“Okay?” she asked carefully.   
“Yeah,” Moritz said softly. “Okay.” “  
D’you need to catch your breath for a second?”   
He nodded. “Y-yeah.”

He detached from their embrace and leaned back against the mossy green wallpaper. Ilse slid over and sat next to him. She put her hand around his, which was clammy and trembled just a little bit. As she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders, his head drooped onto her shoulder.

The adrenaline seemed to be ebbing away.

Moritz’s breathing steadied slowly, until his chest was moving at a regular pace, with only a small hiccup once in a while.   
Ilse kept her eyes on the gun in the corner, as if she were scared that it would move on its own.   
As if she were scared that it would take Moritz away from her.

She wouldn’t let that happen. Never again.

When she eventually looked down and wiped the hair from Moritz’s eyes, she noticed they were closed.   
“Hey, Mo?” she said quietly. “Let’s go back to my place?”   
He woke up with a little jump, but his shoulders relaxed when his tired, scared eyes found Ilse. “N-no, you don’t – you don’t have to –” he stammered.   
“I want to.”   
“Yeah...? O-okay.” He didn’t sound convinced.   
“So, what do you say? You can sleep in the car if you want, I have a blanket. And then we can warm you up and have tea.”   
He bit his bottom lip and wiped his messy hair from his eyes. “A-are you _sure_?” he asked hesitantly.   
“Moritz, I have absolutely nowhere to be,” Ilse said. “Hey... look at me.”   
He pointed his blue eyes up at her.   
“You are my number one priority right now, okay? You always have been. I love you and I want you to be safe and comfortable. Please let me take you home.”   
He swallowed with difficulty. “Yeah?”   
“Absolutely. There is tea and blankets and Netflix and even hot chocolate if Wendla is awake because I don’t know how to operate a microwave,” she added jokingly.   
Moritz cracked a smiled. It made Ilse’s heart jump.   
“O-okay. Only if you don’t mind,” he said softly.   
“Not at all. Let’s go?” She grabbed his hand. Then, smirking, she added: “We can even watch _Friends_ if you truly so desire.”   
Moritz let out something that sounded like relieved laugh. "Wow, you really love me, don't you?"


End file.
